Chapter 4 Ayden
“Where should we start?” I asked.
We stood at the edge of town where the forest consumed the plains and the sun’s light was filtered through a million leaves that never stilled.
It was at once beautiful and foreboding.
The packs strapped to our backs were weighty burdens, constant reminders of the three days we had to spend together.
“You’ve never been in here, have you?” Declan asked without answering my question.
“No.”
He wasn’t facing me then, but I could feel him rolling his eyes. What was it with this guy? I had done nothing to earn his derision, yet here he was, refusing to answer my question or even turn and look me in the eye. It hadn’t even been a full day and I was already sick of his attitude.
“This is the most dangerous land in Melucia,” he said, after taking a few steps into the trees. “It’s untamed, like the fires of the Phoenix that formed it.”
I didn’t mean to snort. It just slipped out.
“What?” He glanced back, his eyes narrowed. “You don’t believe the histories?”
“Histories? You mean myths. The whole idea of a legendary bird consumed by magical fire is ridiculous. In the past thousand years, how many times has that bird been spotted?”
“Well, never, but that doesn’t mean—”
“A thousand years ago, were people more or less superstitious than they are today? Did they hold on to inane beliefs we now know to be children’s tales?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“And do you not think it strange that magic is fading?”
Declan stopped walking, then turned slowly to face me. “What do you mean?”
“Do you see a golden collar anywhere around?” I peered all around the forest, as though searching.
Curiously, Declan’s head dropped, and he muttered, “No.”
Had something I said struck him deeper than intended? Where had this sullen resignation come from? I decided to shelve those questions and press forward.
“There are more Mutes born every year. Magic is dying out. Even the Mages talk about it.”
His head snapped up. “I grew up with the Mages, and I never heard a word of this. Not a single one. Maybe you’re just listening to the wrong people.”
He turned and began trudging forward again, as though he’d settled the point.
Then his words sank in.
He grew up with the Mages? What did that mean? He hadn’t said, “a Mage.” He said, “the Mages,” as though he grew up with all of them. That didn’t make any sense.
“What do you mean you grew up with the Mages?” I asked.
Declan strode forward. “I grew up in the Mages’ Guild—well, in their compound, really. I would never be allowed in the guild.”
He sounded so bitter, like he was almost spitting out the words.
“My parents died when I was three. The Mages took my brother and me in, raised us. Keelan manifested and is now a famous Constable. I’m here, stuck with you, in these mountains.”
Stuck with me? How touching. He really was bitter.
“What about you? Raised by servants? A team of diaper-changers and toe-lickers? Bet they fed you and wiped your arse, just to make you feel important.”
His resentment bordered on anger, and I nearly tripped over a fallen limb.
“I am the son of Lord Byrne. Yes, I grew up with servants and loving parents. I never went to bed hungry or wanted for anything. My tutors were the finest in Saltstone, and I was introduced to society before I could walk.”
My voice rose as I spoke, bounding off the stony mountain.
“I know you hate me for it, but I cannot help the circumstance of my birth any more than you can yours.”
Declan laughed, but there was no joy in the sound.
“What?”
“You really can’t compare being the spoiled brat of a high lord to being an orphan handed off to a bunch of old men because no one else wanted you.”
I blanched. Rage stirred in my chest. Everything in me wanted to grab a rock off the ground and hurl it at his back, to lash out and force this man to be kind, or at least to show me the respect I was due.
But I didn’t lash out.
My mind and heart struggled with whether to defend my honor in the face of a certain insult or be saddened by this man who believed no one wanted him. I wanted to be enraged, to bite back, to show him who I truly was, but the image of the small boy without parents stilled my tongue.
“Declan, I’m sorry.”
“That’s for sure,” Declan muttered, a little too loudly.
Heat flooded my voice. “What is that supposed to mean? I was being sincere.”
“Fine, I’ll bite.” His steps slowed, but he didn’t turn. “What are you sorry about? And why’d you call me Declan just now?”
“It is your name, is it not?” I drew in a breath and swallowed my pride. This was supposed to be an apology, not a battle. “I do not know what it was like—what it must have been like—to grow up as you did. I . . . I can’t imagine losing my parents. I am sorry you had to go through that.”
He stopped and turned, examining me through narrowed eyes so long I wondered if he would ever speak.
“Thanks,” was all he said before turning back and resuming the climb.
We’d made it another twenty paces before curiosity overtook caution. “What was it like? Growing up with all those Mages, I mean.”
Declan stopped again and glanced back. “Can we just not talk for a while? I’d like to focus on tracking deer so we can get this Trial over with.”
“Oh. Sure. Okay.”
He’d turned away again before I’d started speaking.
An hour passed before he stopped beside a trickling brook and leaned against a large boulder.
The shade of the forest canopy kept the worst of the sun’s heat away, but it was still a smoldering summer’s day.
Declan wiped sweat from his brow, then let his pack fall from his shoulders and rolled his neck.
“Drink up. Your body needs it, even if you don’t feel thirsty. We can refill our canteens here.”
I nodded and dropped my pack on the ground, fishing out my canteen.
“Earlier, you said it was the most dangerous place,” I ventured, wondering if we were still not talking. “What did you mean? It does not seem dangerous to me, other than those branches that keep trying to kill me.”
He chuckled as I kicked away a branch I stumbled over as we entered the clearing.
“The wildlife does what wildlife does. We’re in their home now. If they’re bigger than us, we might look like a tasty meal. We might also look like a threat. Either way, bears, boars, and other creatures pose a threat to anyone venturing into their territory.”
“Sounds great,” I said with no small measure of sarcasm.
He shrugged. “If you understand and respect them, and remain on guard, the forest isn’t so bad. If you blunder through without a care, you may not make it out. That’s one of the patrols’ primary missions, watching out for ignorant people who wander in here and get into trouble.”
“The Saltstone Rangers do not speak of this much.”
Declan grunted. “There aren’t any woods or mountains in the center of the country. The only mission out there is keeping the roads free of bandits. They act more like town Guardsmen than Rangers. This . . .”
He waved his arms around at the trees. “This is why the Rangers were formed, to protect the border, the forest, the mountains . . . and the idiots who venture into them.”
I stared into the brook while he stood in silence. “You know the mountains well?”
“As well as I can, less than most Rangers.” He nodded as he drank. “I came here a year before entering the Academy, spent most of my time roaming these woods, just being alone. A lot of people see this place as scary, but I’m more comfortable here than anywhere in the world.”
He rested a palm on the boulder as though greeting an old friend. I suddenly felt as though I intruded on an intimate moment.
Alas, my curiosity knew no bounds.
“Why?”
His head cocked. “Why what?”
“Why did you come a year before—”
“Oh, that.” His head lowered again. Another moment passed before he spoke. I expected some story about preparing for the Academy or learning to hunt, but his answer stunned me. “I was probably running from something more than toward anything. I just . . . I couldn’t take being out there anymore.”
He looked through the forest, as though Saltstone and the rest of the civilized continent were visible.
I didn’t know what to say to that.
Declan Rea confounded me, left me speechless half the time and infuriated the other, and fascinated me all at once.
Back in Grove’s Pass, with his unit, he was always upbeat, jovial even; but out here, he seemed to lose himself in his thoughts.
Maybe it was his past he saw. I couldn’t tell, but something about the man drew me to him, made me want to know more, to understand his layers and who he truly was.
“Spirits, it’s hot,” he said suddenly, then reached down and pulled his sweat-soaked tunic over his head and draped it across the boulder.
I hadn’t meant to stare. His body was just so hardened and—
“Need something?” he asked, and I realized what my rebellious eyes were doing. I couldn’t pull away fast enough.
“Oh, no, sorry. I, uh, just, you surprised me, with your tunic and all, the whole taking it off thing, I mean.”
A grin formed, and, for the first time, Declan Rea looked at me with something other than contempt.
“I never thought I’d see the great lordling fumble his words. This is indeed a beautiful day.”
“You really are an ass, you know it?”
“I’ve been called worse.” He laughed, then grabbed his tunic and plunged it into the stream. “You might want to do this with yours. It’ll make the rest of our climb a bit cooler.”
He wrung out the garment, then lifted it over his head. Once in place, the fabric stuck to every curve of his shoulders and chest. Without thinking, I stared again.
“No? Fine. Be miserable,” Declan said. “Let’s get moving, then. We have a lot of ground to cover if we want to get to the best hunting grounds.”
Either he hadn’t noticed me gawking, or he hadn’t cared. Either way, I was grateful when he turned away and hefted his pack once more.
He had been right. This really was going to be a long three days.
We spent most of that first day in silence, Declan lost in his thoughts, and me trying desperately not to fall on my face.